


Princessless

by Missy



Category: Matilda (1996), Matilda - Roald Dahl
Genre: Chance Meetings, Community: queer_fest, F/F, Families of Choice, Humor, Libraries & Librarians, Queer Families, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 17:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance meeting with an old girlfriend sets Jenny's heart aflutter, but is there room for romance in her life now that she's dedicated herself to raising Matilda?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Princessless

“And then,” Jenny recited, listening to Matilda’s crayon scratch along a piece of notepaper, “the beautiful princess broke free from the castle’s highest tower. The straw broke her fall, cushioning her from the cold ground, and she laughed as she realized how thoroughly her stepmother had underestimated her talent. She unpenned her steed from his moldy paddock and road as far away from the prison of her old home as she could. There was a prince for her to rescue and a whole world to see, and no matter where she ended up, she vowed to herself that she’d live to become happily ever after.”

Matilda raised her head from the copybook and gave Jenny an angelic smile. “I wonder what sort of adventures she had.”

“Why…” Jenny trailed off thoughtfully. “I suppose she slew a few dragons, and rode through the whole continent with Sir Galahad as her mount. They had so many adventures that by the time Lida found her prince she was ready to settle in for the rest of her life. Then she settled in a quiet kingdom with a river and her prince and a daughter of her own.”

Matilda frowned thoughtfully at her drawing and upended her pencil to smooth the edges. “Do you suppose she never found her prince? Maybe she found someone who needed her, and they lived happily together - like we do?”

“Well,” Jenny folded the book shut and gently fingered the gilt lettering ornamenting the cover. “We are a happy pair.”

Matilda watched Jenny with that curiously mature expression of hers. “Do you ever wish you had a prince of your own?”

“I?” Jenny honestly hadn’t thought to consider the notion of romance lately; the business of settling in Matilda and moving into the lovely house she’d found for them had occupied her mind thoroughly lately. She saw Matilda’s wise eyes as they watched Jenny climb to her feet and drift about the room. She finally said, “I suppose I don’t.”

“Want to be married?” Matilda seemed nonplussed. “Want a prince?”

Jenny considered her next words quite carefully before saying, “I’d rather a princess.”

Matilda’s expression didn’t shift even a little at Jenny’s announcement. “Then you need to go out and find her.”

Jenny chuckled, moving toward the bedroom door. “It’s not that easy, dear.” She flicked the overhead light off, leaving Matilda’s determined expression haloed by her night lamp. Jenny doesn’t need to tell her not to read too deeply into the night, for Matilda is far too responsible for that. 

*** 

The following afternoon – a cloudy but mild Saturday – was the family’s official library day. Eagerly, as they did in all sorts of weather, Matilda and Jenny pulled Matilda’s Red Ryder wagon down the sidewalk, the little vehicle overflowing with books returned with great reluctance, and occasionally with great scorn and a flurry of opinions.

On this particular occasion Jenny allowed Matilda to peruse the children’s section by herself, filling the wagon with novels of varying subjects and a volume of letters from Eleanor Roosevelt. Jenny herself picked more sparingly; a novel about women working on the homefront in World War II, a Vivaldi CD, a book on Sherman, some Better Homes and Gardens for recipe ideas. Both daughter and mother approached the check-out desk with great happiness as they passed the books up to be marked and declared their temporary property.

She hadn’t noticed the librarian manning the desk wasn’t Missus Phelps until her slim, soft fingers brushed against Jenny’s palm. Jumping back from the connection, Jenny’s mouth rounded in shock when she noticed the other woman’s face before she recovered her senses, beaming. “Iris Turlow,” she laughed, offering her hand. “How wonderful to see you again!”

“Jenny? Oh wow, I haven’t seen you since highschool!” Her eyes lighted upon Matilda’s face. “Way too long.”

She nodded briskly. “I teach at the local primary school – first grade.” Then, nudging Matilda forward, she said, “This is my daughter and my student, Matilda.”

“Hi,” said Iris. “She’s cute. How’s your husband?”

“Dead,” said Jenny, lying badly and with great difficulty as she and Matilda shuffled the books back into the wagon.

“Sorry to hear that,” Iris said. “ooh, Vivaldi, nice choice.”

The awkward small talk forced a smile out of Jenny. “Did you just move to town?”

“Yeah. My mom’s been sick so…. It’s not like librarians are in demand out in New York.” Iris shrugged awkwardly.

“That,” Matilda piped up suddenly, “is a tragedy that shouldn’t be endured.”

“Nice vocab,” said Iris, inking her stamp and punching out the volume. “I guess that’s why you’re taking out volume twenty of ‘The History of The Western Hemisphere.”

Matilda took the book from Iris’ hand and hugged it to her chest. “The fourth volume is the best; it doesn’t skip over exploring the sociological effects of the price of grain on the human race.”

Iris shook her head. “I’ll see you guys.”

“I hope you will,” Jenny said eagerly, leading Matilda out the door. “Goodbye.”

Jennifer didn’t make note of the spring in her step during their walk home, and she certainly didn’t hear her own humming as she made peanut-butter sandwiches for lunch. They settled down happily to eat in that silence.

A moment passed before Matilda spoke up again.

“Are you going to date Iris?”

Jenny choked on her sandwich. “That’s...” she blushed, curses herself a bit for it, and says, “beyond the point. I don’t believe she’s interested in me...not anymore.” She had been, long ago, but things had gotten complex, and once Jenny had been called home that had been the end of them.

“But that’s not true! Did you see the way she watched us when we took out our books, and the way she held your hand?” Matilda’s expression turned firm.

“Yes,” admitted Jenny. “But it’s rather hopeless, and mooning about the library would make me appear quite the ninny.”

"But that's love," Matilda said, trying her very best to sound brave. "It doesn't matter who you love, as long as they love you back, even if it makes you look silly."

Jenny gave the girl a sympathetic smile. Both of them knew it wasn’t and could never be that simple. “When did you become such a romantic?”

“I’m not, not at all,” Matilda said, but then she added, “you’ve given me so much, Jenny, I want you to be very happy, forever and for always.”

Jenny then climbed off her chair and hugged the child, ignoring the sticky peanut butter tracks she left behind as she did so. “You should go out more,” Matilda insisted suddenly. “I’m just fine, and I know you won’t leave me like they did.”

Jenny’s heart twinged as she considered her options. 

In the end, she followed the child’s advice.

*** 

She found a student teacher willing to accept ten dollars to babysit a smart but polite child for three hours, then fussed over meals and arrangements. Matilda watched from the bed as Jenny tried on hairstyles and outfits like a child playing dress-up games, finally choosing an attractive high-cut red dress that had hung, cloistered, at the back of her closet.

The bar was a quiet oak-paneled monstrosity at the end of West Avenue, where all manner of frightening creatures hung about. She sat sipping a sherry and trying to make eye contact, trying to remember the ancient language of love from before her parent’s deaths, before Aunt Trunchbull.

“Hello, stranger.”

She leapt and spilled the sherry down her bodice. “Oh, _Iris_ ,” she said, flushing like a teenager once more.

“Relax,” urged Iris, handing her a paper napkin. “Why’re you out on a school night?”

“Oh!” she smiled. “Just trying something new for the evening.”

“Right,” grinned Iris. “You’re hanging out in a gay bar because you’re looking for something new to try.”

“So?”

“So what’s the real truth?” she teased.

Jenny’s smile wavered. “I’m a teacher. I live in a beautiful house with a garden. I have a little girl,” Jenny confessed, wiping away a tear. “She’s the most splendid child – so smart, and the kindest person I’ve ever had the privilege to know. I didn’t give birth to her, but she’s my entire world.” 

“When do I get to have dinner her?” Iris asked.

“A few weeks after you buy me a drink,” replied Jenny. “It’s only fair,” she added, pointing at her bodice.

Iris chuckled, but she immediately turned toward the bartender and ordered two sherrys.

***

An hour later, Jenny snuck into the house on tip-toe, finding it remarkably still and quiet, and utterly peaceful. The damp but sparkling dishes resting in the strainer and the pin-neat family room spoke of a self-ordered life and struck Jenny with a lash of guilt.

She ghosted her way upstairs, peering into each peaceful room. How lovely Iris would look sitting at the settee, she thought, and how good would her crêpes taste slipping free of Jenny’s cast-iron skillet. Such wild thoughts felt romantic now, instead of unnatural or far-off fairy castle dreams, and Jenny floated through them in a stupendous bliss.

Unsurprisingly, a golden glow emanated from beneath Matilda’s bedroom door.

Warm arms and sleepy eyes greeted Jenny as she entered, a volume of Baum falling aside and nearly off the bed. “Did you find your princess?” Matilda wondered, curling up into Jenny’s embrace.

“Yes, darling,” Jenny said, pecking Matilda gently upon the cheek. “I certainly did.”

**Author's Note:**

> The characters portrayed in this work of fiction are they property of **The Estate of Roald Dahl**. They were not used with an intent to profit, nor was any money made off of it.


End file.
